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Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Friday Friends

When Brennen was very young, we moved into a brand new home
in a newly constructed subdivision.It
was the ideal setting for a young family.The intertwined cul-de-sacs were full of young children and stay-at-home
Moms, and the air held the promise of a beautiful future.

There was a neighbourhood playground with swing sets and
climbers.There were tricycles and
scooters parked on the lawns, and small dogs barked from the windows at
passers-by.

Us neighbourhood Moms didn’t know each other, but we would
exchange pleasantries in passing while pushing strollers or checking the community
mailbox.

One day, a few of us got talking and came up with the idea
of getting together with our little ones for a “play date” and a friendly chat. It sounded like a wonderful idea, so we decided
on a day and time.An eager Mom offered
to host the gathering, and so off we went, pleased as could be with our newly
made plans and the promise of friendship.

On the morning of the play date, I packed Brennen into his
stroller and we headed down the road, just a few houses away, to join our
neighbours.

Now, let’s back up just a little.When Brennen was eight months old, he was
given a diagnosis of cerebral palsy.I
had no idea what to expect, or what that would mean for him, or for our
family.Brennen was my first (and only)
child, and I had nothing to compare him to.I didn’t even know anybody with a disability, so this was completely
uncharted territory for me.I was
still dealing with the facts and coming to terms with our situation myself, so
maybe going on a “play date” with all of the neighbourhood kids wasn’t the best
idea at that time, but alas, we went.

We arrived at our neighbour’s home and were welcomed
inside.I noticed right away that there
were toddlers busy playing outside in the backyard.There were some other little ones gathered
around a huge pile of toys in the sunken living room, safely protected from the
step by a large, secured baby gate.

There was a group of Moms sitting around the kitchen table,
sipping tea while sharing photos and stories.Another group were deep in what seemed to be a very serious conversation
about ‘Mother and Baby’ Yoga.

Looking around, it wasn’t clear what Mom owned what
child.

I took a seat at the table with Brennen in my arms.After all, I wasn’t able to put him
down.At just over a year old, he
couldn’t sit up on his own, and he certainly couldn’t play!In fact, he wasn’t even able to hold his head
up by himself, so I sat and held him.And I sat and held him.And no
one spoke to me.They looked, but they
didn’t speak.They didn’t ask questions,
and I didn’t volunteer information.

At one point, the homeowner did offer me a cup of tea (which
I would have loved!), but with Brennen in my arms it would have been impossible
to drink it, and I certainly couldn’t get up to make it.

I knew at that moment that we did not belong there.I knew it because I felt it. Deep down in my
soul, I knew that we did not belong, and it was a horrible, horrible
feeling.It scared me.I feared for Brennen’s future, and I feared
for my own.I wanted him to belong.I wanted us to belong and to feel welcome and included and
involved.Ultimately, isn’t that what we all want for our children, and for
ourselves?

I found myself full of apprehension, fear and sadness for
the extra challenges that I knew my child would face. (Several years later,
that has not gone away.)

Shortly after our unsuccessful play date, Brennen began having
regular physiotherapy appointments three times a week (in addition to
occupational therapy and speech therapy).At his physio sessions, Brennen and I would join his therapist on a mat
in the corner of a large gym.There
would be other patients having their own therapy sessions in different areas of
the gym, and over several weeks I began to take notice of these other children.Though I tried not to stare, I would often
catch myself sneaking glances, looking (hoping?) for similarities, and trying
to overhear conversations.I would look
to see if the other little boy was able to roll over, or if the girl in the far
corner looked like she could sit up on her own.They seemed to be doing some of the same things we were, and working on
some of the same goals.I also found
myself looking to the parent (most often the Mom), and wondering how she was
coping.She looked so put together.How was she managing everything?Had she accepted her child’s disability, or
was she falling apart on the inside like I felt I was?

As the weeks went by, I began asking questions, and I guess
the other parents had as well.The
physiotherapists took note of this, and began to bring us around, one at a
time, to meet the other children.There
were five of them: Brennen, two boys and two girls, who were all around the
same age and just happened to have therapy at the same time on Friday afternoons.Our casual meeting grew into a planned physio
“play group” that we later called “Friday Friends”.They would pull all of the mats in the gym
together and our five children would “play” for a full hour, while us Moms
talked (cried, vented) over tea and coffee in the hospital cafeteria.

We talked about grief and loss.We talked about surgeries and medical
procedures, tests and diagnoses.We
talked about things that no one else would understand, and sometimes, we didn’t
talk about our children at all!

I would look forward to Fridays. I felt that I was finally
in a good place, that I wasn’t alone, and that there were others who could
relate to what I was going through.We
shared the same fears and worries for our children.We were uncertain of what our futures would
look like, and were afraid to even think too far ahead.That group of Moms became my strength and
support, and though our schedules have changed, we are still close today.

I am in a much better place emotionally than I was just a
few years ago, however there will always be worry. Having a child with physical
and mental challenges means that there is going to be added suffering, and I
carry that with me every day.

I want Brennen to have as many opportunities as he can to
live a happy, fulfilling life.I cannot
change the physiological parts of his body that limit him, but I can nurture
his mind and his spirit.I can provide
him with unique experiences and surround him with love.That last part I’ve got mastered.I love him so much that some days I fear my
heart might explode.

If you are a special needs parent, let me tell you
something:You are not alone. We are in
this together.We are on the same team. Our children need us and we
need each other.Don’t think for a second that you are alone, or that you have to figure
it all out by yourself.I am in a
constant state of ‘figuring it out’, but I am learning every day, and there is
so much we can learn from each other.

"Anyone can give up; it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But
to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart,
that's true strength."

5 comments:

This made me cry because it touched a place in my heart that not everyone can get to. I have been, and still am in some cases, the mother who thinks 'I don't belong here'. But with the support and friendship of other Moms who don't require explanations, who understand that the achievement of little things are really HUGE things, who cry and laugh with you, I know that I do belong and my family belongs.

Thank you for your comment, Glenda. I knew that you would understand, and likely share many of these same feelings. I am so thankful for our Moms Group, and for the support of so many amazing and strong women. As I said, there is so much we can learn from each other. xo-Julie B